The Things You Do For Love
by vivi749
Summary: With Nate captured and Hardison taking care of Parker, Eliot and Sophie must rush to save the mastermind.
1. Chapter 1

Um. I'm a little scared of my own head right now. No idea where this one came from, but it may have had something to do with the Gina Bellman scene in Paranoid. If you can watch that scene, look at her eyes. Think that's what made this happen. Warning: Below are graphic descriptions of torture. Also, some bad language and explicit sex (consensual) are in here. Title borrowed from the Game of Thrones book 1. Obviously I don't own Leverage. :|

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><p>"Where is he?" Sophie's voice was quiet, almost conversational. If an outsider had heard it and not been able to see the room she was in, they might have been forgiven for thinking it was an ordinary question.<p>

Eliot tightened his grip on the guy's hair. Not that he was going anywhere soon; Eliot had broken both his kneecaps in their initial fight. If he hadn't been touching the guy Eliot might have shivered at the look in Sophie's eyes. In the years since he'd worked with her, he'd been amused at her, furious with her, even in love with her (still was). But he'd never been afraid of her. Until now.

The guy he was holding spat at Sophie, missing her by a good margin. She didn't even flinch. Eliot gave him a knee to the kidney for his insolence.

"Where is he?" she asked again. The guy remained silent. There had been two others with him in here, but both were dead. One of those kills had been Sophie; she'd informed Eliot that she was a much better shot than Nate. The guy had been at least thirty five feet from her and the bullet went through his left eye, so Eliot wasn't about to argue with her.

After a second Sophie walked outside to the car and came back with her purse. She reached inside and pulled out a set of handcuffs. Tossing them to Eliot she said "I traveled with them this time." On any other day it would have been a joke between them. Eliot secured the guy's hands behind him with the shackles.

They were in the basement of a rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Upon first seeing it Eliot had remarked that it reminded him of the kind that had dominated the horror movie scene in recent years. Sophie hadn't responded.

She wandered over to a corner and came back with a length of rope. She gave a support column a shove, testing its sturdiness, and then looped the rope around it a few times. She gestured and Eliot dragged the guy over, ignoring his cries of pain as his broken knees were scraped against the concrete floor.

After tying the man against the pillar so that he was still in a kneeling position and unable to move anything except his head, Sophie stood up and looked Eliot in the eyes. "You may want to leave this room," she said. There was none of the care or concern that Eliot had come to expect from his friend and lover. It was more as if she thought that she ought to offer due to courtesy.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied.

He could see her weighing him in her mind, picking up on things even he was likely blind to, before she nodded once and returned to her purse. She pulled out a straight razor, a disposable lighter, and a pair of latex gloves. After picking up the gun she'd dropped on a table on the way in, she returned to standing in front of their prisoner.

"Here's how this is going to work," she said conversationally. Her eyes were terrifying. "I am going to ask you questions. You are going to answer them. If you lie, or if I'm not satisfied with your answer, you get punished. I need you to understand something very clearly. You are not leaving this room alive. But you can either go peacefully" she held up the gun "or you can go screaming. To tell you the truth, I really don't care which one it is."

Sophie started pulling on the gloves. "Last chance," she warned Eliot. He swallowed but shook his head resolutely. After pulling on the gloves she looked back at the prisoner. "Where is he?"

"You don't scare me," he sneered. "You don't have the guts to do anything."

Later Eliot would think that what bothered him most was the casualness with which Sophie began torturing the guy. This was, after all, the woman who'd called MMA fighting barbaric. As she sliced off strips of skin, and the guy's former bravado turned to pleas for mercy, Eliot belatedly became aware that she'd lied during that second job they'd done as a team, when she said she hadn't hurt anyone. But no, Eliot realised, his mind taking any memory over the stark truth before him, she hadn't said that. Parker had. Soph had only said that she stole paintings for a living.

Eliot's eyes went back to the guy in front of him. Sophie had been carefully cauterising each wound as she made it, not wanting their prisoner checking out due to blood loss. The smell of blood and burning hair made Eliot want to puke, but he controlled the urge.

After each subsequent cut Sophie would again ask the guy where Nate was. After about half an hour, despite Sophie's care, the guy was kneeling in a pool of his own blood. But he still hadn't told them the name.

"Eliot, go get me the bolt cutters out of the car please." Eliot wanted to argue, wanted to tell her to stop this, that he didn't want her to become this… thing she was becoming. But the words stuck in his throat. He'd been shocked at first, when he'd realised he was in love with her. And he'd been even more shocked when he realised he was in love with Nate too. He'd thought it was just sex, that he was just a casual third to them. But somehow Friday nights had turned into Sunday afternoons, he and Nate curled together on the couch and Sophie casually making fun of their emotional involvement in 'American' football (she never forgot the air quotes.)

When she met his eyes he could see her reading it all. His worry, his fear about losing Nate and maybe losing her too, his distaste for the entire fucking situation. But all she did was repeat the order in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. So he got the cutters.

"He needs to be cuffed in front for this," she said to him when he returned. He dropped the cutters and switched the guy's cuffs. The man tried to fight, clearly having some inkling of what was coming, but he was so weak from pain and blood loss that it wasn't really much of a fight at all. "You don't have to stay." Sophie met his eyes again. "You don't need to see this."

Eliot simply planted his feet and stared at the floor. He wasn't sure if she sighed softly or if it was his imagination.

"I'm going to ask you again. For each time you don't answer, you lose a finger. At ten, I'm simply going to douse you in gasoline and watch you burn to death. Where is Nathan Ford?" Sophie's voice could have been giving a weather report. The guy stayed silent. "You were warned."

Eliot wasn't exactly sure if it was finger number three or four that sent him lunging for the door, ending up leaning with a hand against the side of the house as he retched helplessly. He'd seen torture, hell, participated in it, in his younger days. But never like this. Never when it was someone he was in love with that was going about it in such a business-like manner. He dragged a hand across his mouth angrily and kicked the wall, thankful for the pain it caused and the distraction it brought. After a second he stood up straight and walked back inside.

Sophie got to eight before the guy finally cracked. "Alright, please, I'll tell you anything just please stop," he sobbed, tears and snot running down his face. "Look, I dunno where they were taking him. But the guy I get my orders from works out of Mexico. His information is stapled to the inside of the roof of my car, under the fabric. Please don't hurt me anymore" he cried.

Sophie met Eliot's eyes. He was already moving. Two minutes later he was back, a paper clutched in his fist. "Guadalajara," he said.

Sophie nodded. "Go start the car," she said softly. His eyes went to the guy leaning against the pillar, to the two dead men on the floor, and then his mind traveled back to what Parker had looked like when they'd found her two days ago, barely alive. With one last look at the soon to be dead man, he walked away. He didn't look back at the gunshot, the sudden heat from behind him as the old house went up like a piece of tinder. And he hoped that the screams he was hearing were only in his mind, that Sophie really had killed that guy and not left him to burn to death.

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><p>When Eliot almost dozed off for the second time in the last half hour, he conceded that either Soph was going to have to drive for a while or else they needed to stop very soon. He refused to die in some stupid car crash before they rescued Nate.<p>

When he pulled into a service station Sophie was just instantly awake, from dozing to fully conscious in less than a second. She hadn't said a word since they left that farmhouse, had been drifting in and out of sleep for the past four hours. Several times she'd cried out, sometimes Nate's name and sometimes his, but Eliot hadn't had the heart to wake her. She'd had less than 3 hours sleep for each of the last five days.

"I need a coffee," Eliot said. "And somewhere in the next hour we need to find a place to spend the night."

It was a mark of how tired she was that Sophie didn't even protest, just nodded. "I'd drive but I'm probably closer to impaired right now than you. I can't keep my eyes from closing."

"You want anything?" Eliot offered as he climbed out. Sophie just shook her head. He'd need to badger her into eating something later, Eliot thought. She hadn't had anything but a protein shake since yesterday.

Eliot grabbed some snacks along with his coffee, mostly mixed nuts and beef jerky, and then added a bottle of Jack Daniels to the pile. He paid and returned to the car, tossing the bag in the back seat. Sophie had programmed the GPS to look for hotels and it indicated one only about twenty miles down the road. Eliot gunned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. The sooner they got there the better.

* * *

><p>"You want first shower?" Eliot asked. Sophie had sat down in a chair at the room's computer desk and was staring off into space. Eliot had to repeat his question before she looked up.<p>

After a second she stood up and took his hand, leading him into the bathroom with her. She stripped out of her clothes and turned on the water, and then turned back around, pulling at his belt when he didn't undress fast enough for her. She went to her knees right there on the tile floor, taking him in her mouth and sucking hard enough that his world went white around the edges. He coiled one of his hands in her hair and used the other to brace himself against the sink. She raked her nails against the small of his back, dipping one finger down and penetrating his ass. He came embarrassingly fast, calling her name as she sucked him dry.

Eliot pulled Sophie up against him, hugging her briefly and then picking her up and stepping both of them under the hot spray of the shower. She stayed with her eyes buried in his shoulder, content to let him smooth soap over her skin and rub shampoo into her hair. He was grateful for the spray of the shower that disguised the tears he could feel in his eyes.

Against his will he felt his body responding to her again, the feel of her soft breasts against his chest and all that smooth skin under his fingertips. She noticed, of course. It would have been hard not to, although Eliot tended to believe she would have known anyway, just because of who and what she was. She tilted her head up and captured his lips, her tongue dancing with his and her teeth pulling at his bottom lip. He could taste some trace of himself on her lips and it only turned him on more.

After a minute she looked him in the eyes and then turned around, bending a bit and bracing her hands against the wall of the shower. Eliot didn't waste any time pushing into her slick heat, astounded as he always was at how tight she felt around him. He reached around her, tracing the line of her inner thigh before gliding his fingers over her clit. It was a bit unnerving to have sex with Sophie and not hear her making any noise; Nate and him had a running joke about how they were going to gag her if she got them yelled at one more time by Nate's next door neighbor.

Eliot almost wondered if Sophie was even feeling what he was doing until her breathing started to speed up and she began moving herself back against his thrusts. He was relieved when she tightened around him, a sound that was closer to a groan than anything else coming from deep in her throat. Eliot followed about four thrusts later.

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><p>"We should call Hardison." She was lying on her back staring at the ceiling. He was leaning against the headboard. Neither of them had bothered with getting dressed.<p>

She didn't reply, but after a moment she reached up to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. She didn't even dial, just held down one number, and then handed him the phone. Four rings later Hardison said "Hello?" He sounded groggy, so he'd probably been dozing.

"Hey, it's Eliot. How is she?"

"Oh, hey man. She's… still the same." Eliot could hear the fear in his friend's (brother's) voice.

"You still at the hospital?" Eliot asked.

"Yeah man, they tried to get me to leave and but I told them no friggin' way. I'm not goin' anywhere till she's better." There were anger and conviction both in the youngest team member's voice.

"Good. Don't let them tell ya what to do. Sterling said you guys are good, nobody will come after ya, and he owes us one."

"Is there… Did you guys find out anything?"

"Yeah," Eliot said. "We're going to Mexico. Figure we'll leave my car at LAX and fly out of there, since we're pretty close anyway."

"Let me know what aliases you're using and I'll get you a flight. Where you going?"

"Guadalajara," Eliot replied. "I'll go as Jason Carter. Soph has her Sarah Jane Baker passport, so go with that. We can be at LAX by ten am if we get up early."

"Aiight, I'll text ya the details soon as I've got them." Hardison paused and then said "Do you… do you guys wanna say hi to her?"

Eliot swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat and then said "Sure. Put us on speaker."

Eliot pushed the speaker button on Sophie's cell as well, and they could both hear Hardison say "Hey, Parker, Soph and Eliot wanna say hi, okay? Go ahead guys."

"Hey crazy girl. You listening? You gotta wake up soon, k? Hardison's looking after himself right now and we all know how bad that can get, right? So come on, you gotta come out of there," said Eliot.

Sophie had pulled herself up into a sitting position. "Parker, I know it's hard but you have to come back. Hardison is right there with you, and as soon as we get Nate back we'll be there too and we'll help you, okay?"

"Okay guys, I'll send you that info as soon as I have it. Get some sleep." Hardison's voice was tight, and Eliot didn't need to be a grifter to know there were probably tears running down his friend's face.

"Take care, bro," Eliot replied, then ended the call.

After he hung up the phone Hardison looked at Parker, whose eyes were open and unblinking. "Come back, Parker. Just come back." He dropped his head down onto the bed beside her briefly, then wiped his eyes and got to work on those plane tickets.

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><p>"Please tell me that wasn't just a pleasant lie. That you really believe we'll get him back." Eliot looked into Sophie's eyes, pleading for reassurance.<p>

She dropped her gaze and shrugged. "You're the retrieval specialist. You tell me."

He tilted his head back against the headboard with a clunk. "I think I'll say a prayer tonight. First time in twelve years."

There was a wry twist to Sophie's lips that the unobservant might have called a smile. "I don't believe in God." After a second she turned off the lamp and shifted down under the blankets. Eliot followed suit, wrapping her in his arms.

He was almost asleep twenty minutes later when a stray thought hit him like a freight train. "Shit! We didn't use a condom."

Sophie's shoulders shook slightly against him, a laugh or a sob or both. "If we don't get him back, it won't matter. I won't live nine days beyond his death, never mind nine months. Not if he leaves me this way."

Eliot couldn't figure out what to say to that, so he just tightened his hold on her briefly. "I love you," he murmured into her hair.

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><p>By six am they were already in his car, heading down the interstate at better than 20 miles past the speed limit. By midafternoon they were in Mexico.<p>

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><p>Eliot gunned the engine on the shitbox car they'd 'borrowed'. Well, tried to gun the engine. It didn't make a damn difference. "Goddamn stupid import garbage," he growled. "Wonder why I drive a Challenger." He'd been keeping up a steady stream of like comments for the past half hour.<p>

"Left up here," Sophie said, staring at the map she was holding. It was written in Spanish, but that didn't seem to disturb her any.

Eliot took the indicated turn and then coaxed the shitbox up to about forty miles an hour. "We're not just driving up to this place Soph. This is the kind of country where owning an automatic weapon is considered poor taste, not a crime."

She nodded. "We'll drive by once to check it out and I'll record a video on my phone. Then we'll stop somewhere and do some planning."

He grunted in assent. "Let me know ahead of time so I can slow down."

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><p>It turned out to be a rambling villa, twelve foot walls topped with barbed wire over them surrounding the entire place. There was a front gate with a speaker. Eliot counted four guards just on the short video Sophie had gotten.<p>

"This is gonna be messy," Eliot said. "I can take this place but…" He mumbled something about 'wish I still had my strike team', and continued studying the feed.

"A frontal assault is only one alternative. We need information on who lives here, what they do, where they spend their time. I may be able to get in and out without any casualties at all." She rewound the video. "There's a coffee shop across from there. We'll go sit there, pretend to be tourists, watch and see what goes on."

Eliot had to admit that it sounded better than his approach. Even though he didn't want to rest until they got Nate back, he knew that going into a place half-cocked was a good way to end up dead. "Let's find the closest motel that looks habitable and grab some supplies. We're eating a real meal tonight. And I mean 'we'."

Sophie gave him a look, one that made him feel about eight years old. "I'll either eat or I won't. But trust me, you can't make me do it."

"Nope, but I won't stop trying," he said. He started the car (shitbox). "Let's find that motel."


	2. Chapter 2

So I think it's pretty clear this isn't going to be a happy chapter. The following deals with violence, rape, discussions of torture, and some foul language. I promise, I will try to sort out some of the damage I'm doing to our favourite team! *crosses heart* Also, I still don't own Leverage.

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><p>Sophie upended the shopping bag on the bed. She sorted through what she'd bought, taking the toiletries to the bathroom and pulling tags off of clothing. Neither she nor Eliot had brought any clothing except what they could fit in a carry on. In a way she was glad; she was generally pretty attached to her clothes and she'd be burning everything they used on this trip. The fewer clues they left behind the better.<p>

Eliot walked in and set a couple of bags down on the coffee table. He went back outside and Sophie turned her attention to the bag of electronics they'd bought. For the next few minutes she busied herself with unwrapping all the cords and setting up the small laptop they'd purchased. The internet in this place was shitty, but it was present, so that was really all that counted.

Eliot returned with the last of the bags from the car, mostly groceries. The room they were in actually had a kitchen (not that Eliot would ordinarily have dignified it as such, but these were extenuating circumstances.) He started putting things in the fridge and opening drawers, tossing every utensil he came across into the sink and adding scalding hot water and a healthy amount from the bottle of bleach he'd bought. No sense ending up sick.

"I'm thinking pasta," Eliot said. Sophie looked up at his words but then shrugged and went back to what she was doing. "Dammit, Soph, will you fucking show some emotion? God, scream, cry, throw things, just anything but this… this total lack of personality! You're scaring the shit out of me!"

She met his eyes and his anger unflinching. "I don't feel any of that. I can't feel a thing, Eliot. Other than this driving need to find him."

Eliot turned away, banging the pots and pans in the kitchen and making more noise than was needed just to keep from the terrible silence of this room.

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><p>"You need to eat," he said, pushing the plate closer to her. She'd looked at it when he first set it down and even raised the fork to her lips briefly, but then gone back to what she was doing, which seemed to involve researching the most influential people in this country.<p>

Sophie looked at the plate again. "It won't stay down. I've been here before, in this… fog. Tara tried to get me to eat too. I ended up on the bathroom floor with my head over the toilet. You'll forgive me if I'm not eager to repeat the experience."

Eliot dragged a hand through his hair in distress. He understood her reluctance, but she needed something. Him or Nate, they could probably go a while without eating and be okay. But Soph was too damned skinny as it was. "Sophie, even if it doesn't stay down, you'd still end up with some calories while you're eating it. Most of the sugar in food gets broken down even before it makes it to your stomach."

She raised an eyebrow. "Which is why Bulimia isn't effective as a means of dieting. I know. Eliot, I can't." She paused for a second, and then said "I'm sorry."

"Could you drink something? Like a protein shake?"

He could see the doubt in her eyes, but maybe her love for him was stronger than her reluctance, because she said "I could try."

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><p>Nearly three thousand miles away, Hardison still sat in a chair, watching over Parker. He chattered to her as he typed on his laptop. One of the things that Hardison firmly believed was that even if Parker couldn't hear his exact words, she'd know that he was there by his voice.<p>

Hardison had been scared in his life plenty of times. When he was a kid and being bullied at school (he still donated money every month to fund campaigns aimed at stopping bullying for good.) When his nana had her stroke and he'd only been sixteen, and she'd needed a retirement home and he couldn't face the system so he'd struck out on his own. He'd been scared lots of times during the leverage team's endeavors, faced with bombs and guns and mob guys that would just as soon rip his head off as talk to him. But he'd never been scared like he was when they walked into Nate's apartment. Against his will his mind went back.

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><p>"Hey Nate, I found that- what the hell?" Hardison's voice trailed off.<p>

"Come on, Hardison, stop blocking the damn door!" Eliot's voice was impatient. When he was finally able to push Hardison aside and get into the apartment, his reaction was pretty much the same as Hardison's had been. "Oh fuck." They both just stood there, staring around at the chaos.

Nate's apartment had been trashed. His desk, the table, and their workstation had all been demolished. Every picture and wall hanging had been ripped into pieces. Hardison's rage flared at the sight of 'old Nate', the picture he'd painted and which they had all reluctantly accepted as the symbol of their little family. And then his heart broke at the sight of a much smaller picture frame, the white paper that had been inside lying like the saddest sort of confetti on the floor beside it. Sam's picture, the one Nate kept on his nightstand, the one he sometimes carried around his apartment with him like some sort of security blanket.

Eliot had drawn a knife (Hardison thought from the small of his back, that was where he usually carried it) and checked the downstairs bathroom and closets. Now he was walking on cat's paws toward the spiral staircase. After a second Hardison tried to follow, but Eliot motioned him back. He pointed at Hardison's feet and then made a slicing motion as if to say "don't walk, you make too much noise." Eliot kept his eyes on the younger man until Hardison nodded, and then continued up the stairs.

What followed were some of the longest moments of Hardison's life. His whole body was tense, alert, ready to fight or run depending on circumstance. Eliot reappeared after only two minutes, shaking his head. "No one there. We need to know who was here. I know Nate was home because when I left this morning…" he stopped for a second, because it was the first time he'd really admitted he was sleeping with Nate and Sophie. He continued "when I left Nate was in his planning mode. The one where he zones out everything not directly related to a job. He wasn't going anywhere. Sophie was here but said she was going out later. You text Parker, I'll text Nate and Soph. See if we can find out who was here."

Hardison took a deep breath, because he didn't really want to admit this next part. He had a feeling Eliot would be pissed. But he said "I have a better way. I have a video feed active in every room of this apartment. Gimme two minutes, and we'll know." As he grabbed his laptop and started tapping into the feed, he braced himself mentally for an attack that never came. When he finally met Eliot's eyes, there was nothing there but focus. If his team was in danger than apparently he didn't give a shit about his privacy.

"Okay, you left around what time?"

"About eight thirty," Eliot responded. Hardison nodded and dragged the time on the feed back to that point, then set it to run at ten times regular speed. They watched in silence as Nate drank cup after cup of coffee, typing on his laptop and making little notes. At the ten o'clock mark Sophie showed up, walking down the stairs. She chatted briefly with Nate, and then kissed him and disappeared out the front door.

At the twelve thirty mark, Hardison saw something that made his blood run cold. Parker walked into the apartment, going over to the table and, from what Hardison could gather, started pestering Nate. He was clearly smiling at her antics, actually appeared to laugh when he looked up and she'd stolen his coffee right out from under his fingers.

"What the hell happened here?" Both Hardison and Eliot turned around to see Sophie standing in the doorway and looking utterly shocked. Eliot couldn't help a sigh of relief. They explained about having just arrived themselves, and then Hardison once again had to face his fear and tell Sophie that he'd been videotaping Nate's apartment. She closed her eyes for a second, but that was all the reaction she showed. Then she impatiently demanded that Hardison put the video back on and keep searching. Seconds could mean the difference here.

At 2:30 pm of the feed they finally found what they'd been watching for. Parker had wandered around the apartment several times, playing with her collection of padlocks and then hanging from the ceiling. Throughout it all she would continually gravitate back towards Nate, stealing random items from him and generally being a nuisance in the way only Parker could. Nate must have finally given in, because he pulled out a chess set and it was game on. At 2:30, both Parker and Nate turned startled looks towards the door, and Hardison automatically reverted the feed back to normal time.

They watched as eight men (or women) in black ski masks ran in and grabbed both Nate and Parker. Even without the audio it would have been brutal, watching what happened next. With it Hardison knew he'd never sleep properly again.

Nate was struggling, and then he said "Who are you? What the hell do you want?" All his questions earned him was a knee to the balls, bending him double at the waist and putting him in prime position for the next knee, which caught him flush under the chin. Blood literally exploded from his mouth. The guys holding him wrenched his arms back and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. He wouldn't stop fighting. And they could all see why.

Parker was being held down by two people, and a third pulled a knife out of a sheath at his belt. Nate must have thought that the guy was going to kill Parker, because he was screaming at them to take him, leave her alone. She was still struggling, but there was a terrible emptiness in her eyes. Neither of the men knew, but Sophie could have explained what that look meant. It was the look of someone who'd had this done to them before, and knew that for all their struggles they couldn't stop what was about to happen. Sophie'd seen that look. She'd had it.

The person with the knife cut Parker's clothes away, and now Nate truly was frantic. How bad became clear when his shoulder was dislocated as a result of his struggles. He cried out, but he still didn't stop fighting. It didn't make a damned difference.

The look in Nate's eyes as he was held, helpless, watching the guys taking turns raping Parker, was worse than anything Hardison had ever seen. Worse than the day when they'd first worked together and he'd professed his rage that Dubenich had used his dead son to make him do what he wanted. Worse than the night Sophie had left for London, gone as if she really had died and leaving a gap so big nobody even bothered to attempt to fill it.

For all that Nate's reaction was awful to see, Parker's reaction, or rather, lack thereof, was worse. Every ounce of emotion, every softening of personality they'd seen as she slowly began trusting the members of her team (family) evaporated. Gone, as if it never existed.

When the guy started ripping off Nate's clothes, Hardison wanted to turn the feed off, toss the laptop out the window, anything to avoid what he knew was coming. He didn't want Eliot and Sophie to see this. They all thought they were being so discreet, but between Parker and him they'd known about what was happening between the three within a week of it starting.

The worst part was that Nate didn't make a sound. No cries for mercy, no curses, nothing.

Hardison grabbed the nearest thing he could find, which happened to be the overturned garbage can, and puked until he expected to see his guts come out of his mouth. Sophie had gone deathly pale, and Eliot caught her just before she hit the floor. She didn't lose consciousness, but it was a near thing.

Finally, at almost 3:20 on the feed, the men decided they'd had enough fun. As they marched a re-dressed Nate toward the door, they passed the spot where Parker was still being held. If they were smarter they might have realised that Nate was being a bit too cooperative, no matter how broken they thought he was. His deception paid off. As they passed the spot where Parker stood, Nate used all of his strength to break the man's hold on him and tackled the men holding Parker. In the moment it took for the men to react, she was already moving. Out the window and gone.

Naturally the thugs beat the shit out of Nate for this. Hardison was sure they were going to kill him until one of them said "No, the boss wants him alive." They had to carry Nate from the apartment.

* * *

><p>Hardison met Eliot's eyes. They were wild, full of pain and anger. Sophie had put her head down on her knees as soon as Hardison stopped the feed, and even though it was silent, it was clear that she was crying, because her whole body was shaking with her sobs.<p>

Hardison swallowed hard, then did what at this point was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He reached out and started the feed up again, running it faster, searching for some sign that Parker might have returned to the apartment. At 4:13, only about fifteen minutes before Eliot and Hardison entered the apartment, there was a short black flash going up from below the window to above it. Hardison had to slow the feed down twice just so he could catch it.

"Eliot, man, I think Parker might be on the roof. I gotta go get her! Stay here." Hardison hit the stairs to the roof access at a run.

He'd found Parker curled up into a ball inside a vent that Hardison could've sworn a cat couldn't get inside. Getting her out had been hell, and she hadn't moved, hadn't answered him, hadn't even shown the flicker of an eyelash to indicate that she knew he was there. He carried her back down to Nate's apartment, terrified to take her back but not knowing where else to go.

* * *

><p>Hardison shook his head to try to clear away the memories. Eliot had been the first one to react in an effective manner, grabbing his phone and dialing it with a hand that shook. His conversation was curt, and had started with "You owe us one, especially since I didn't come turn your daughter into an orphan like I wanted to. I'm cashing that favour in."<p>

Sophie had checked Parker over, examining her eyes with a flashlight and asking a series of questions, none of which were answered. All of them had been a bit surprised when they realised she had almost as much medical knowledge as Eliot, but as she had explained once to them, she took her roles as an actress seriously, and that meant she gained a lot of extra knowledge along the way.

After a couple of minutes of trying to talk a response out of Parker, she'd stood up and put a hand on Hardison's shoulder and said "Shock. She's going to need a hospital." Hardison couldn't help but think that maybe Parker wasn't the only one; Sophie's eyes were a frightening version of the battlefield soldier's thousand mile stare. The laughing, caring, friendly person he knew was gone.

With Sterling's influence, Parker was taken to a secured ward in a hospital. The memory of the conversation that had occurred once she'd been put there still haunted Hardison.

_"She's settled in," Hardison said, coming out of the room. There was a nurse in there doing vitals and bloodwork and other things he really didn't want to watch happening to the love of his life._

_ Eliot and Sophie had been having a quiet conversation when he showed up but now they stopped. Like __**that**__ wasn't suspicious at all._

_ "What?" he asked warily._

_ The two looked at each other and then Sophie said "We're going after Nate. You aren't."_

_ Hardison's eyes widened. "But…"_

_ Eliot cut him off. "Someone's gotta stay here with Parker. You know she'll vanish if she wakes up alone."_

_ Four years ago Hardison would've accepted that as a reason and let it go. But he could see something else now._

_ "That ain't why you don't want me with you, is it? C'mon Eliot, you're the one who's always getting pissed when we lie or con each other. So what's the real reason? We both know that I know, so how 'bout you just say it." Hardison swallowed hard and looked at the guy he'd come to think of as a brother._

_ Eliot gave a short nod. "Yeah. Okay, you're right man. You aren't coming because there's a good chance that we aren't coming back from this. Those guys, they were professionals. I can tell, you know? And it's obviously personal, because they wanted Nate alive. That means…" he swallowed hard and then said "torture. They have a score to settle. And they'll be perfectly happy to settle it on three or four instead of just one. So you're staying here." He looked like he was getting ready to say more to convince Hardison but the hacker stopped him._

_ "Okay. I mean, I knew I couldn't leave Parker but I just, I wanted to hear you say it, ya know? Just in case…" he trailed off. And no, those were not tears in his eyes. It was just his dust allergy._

_ Although apparently Eliot must be catching it, because his baby blues were looking pretty bright too. He held out a hand. "Take care of her and take care of you. I catch you eating Kraft Dinner again and I'll beat ten shades of purple outta ya, hear me?" Hardison ignored the hand and instead pulled the hitter into a hug, a real, full arms-wrapped-around-each-other hug. And Eliot didn't push him away._

_ "I'll see you when you get back," Hardison said to him firmly. "You need surveillance, electronics, anything, you call, k?"_

_ Eliot nodded, and then moved away, walking down the hall towards a soft drink machine, muttering about how the air was too dry in here. Hardison turned to Sophie._

_ "I'll take care of him," she said, but her eyes still had that bleak, faraway look._

_ "Take care of you too," Hardison said as he hugged her. Her silence after that statement was it's own answer; since she'd conned the team that first time, she'd done her best not to lie to them when it could be avoided. She wouldn't tell him that she'd look after herself because she didn't know whether it was true._

_ "Be there when she wakes up," Sophie said, pulling back and looking him in the eyes. "It'll help keep her from attaching what those men did to any sexual relationships she has in the future with you. It's a trust thing."_

_ Hardison almost asked how she knew that, but then stopped himself. He didn't need to._

* * *

><p>"I hate Mexico," Eliot growled. They were sitting at an outdoor table at the café they'd picked for their surveillance; Sophie had charmed the manager with a story about how she was writing a book about Mexican culture and she wanted to 'savour the atmosphere' here. He'd basically given them the table for as long as they wanted.<p>

Sophie glanced over and actually gave a small (albeit sad) smile at his words. He'd bought the lightest button down shirt he could find and it was open halfway down his chest and he was still too hot. (Sophie's mind provided her with a play on the wording in that statement and she let it. Sometimes she thought public indecency laws were so backwards.)

"Have another drink," she suggested. She took a sip of the iced concoction in front of her, which was alcohol free at her own insistence. She hadn't missed the look of relief on Eliot's face when she ordered and devoured a chicken wrap when they first arrived.

"There's our guy," Eliot said, his eyes suddenly focused and the note of complaint gone from his voice.

Sophie followed his gaze and watched the man. He was in a white convertible, a laughing woman in the front seat beside him. He pulled up to the gate and it raised, allowing him inside and closing right away.

A smile and a short conversation later, and the manager of the café let slip that the man often brought home two or three different women a week. He treated them well, gave them gifts, and rumours on the street said that the only thing he absolutely required about their time with him was their silence. Sophie nodded and thanked the man.

"That's my in," she said, back at the table. She knew Eliot would protest her going in there alone. She was right.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Leverage. Bit of a shorter chapter this time, but hopefully more soon. Been so busy lately I've barely seen my laptop. Thank you to everyone who reads and reviews! See you soon, vivi749. :)

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><p>"No. No no no. You can't go in there alone, Sophie. Hell, I'm not sure that I should even have let you drive today. You aren't yourself." Eliot's voice was firm. Part of what the service had taught him was that a strong commanding tone of voice could mean the difference between orders being obeyed or not. Normally he'd balk at the idea of him giving orders to Soph, but his job was to keep his team safe. All of them had agreed that in matters of safety, Eliot's word was law. Even Nate had accepted it now.<p>

"I have to, Eliot. Nate might be in there. But he only invites women, and only one at a time. You're just going to have to trust me to do this." Sophie tossed two shirts on the bed, trying to decide which to wear for the con. The old wisdom was true: first impressions were everything.

"We don't know Soph. We don't know whether Nate's there, we don't know if he hurts these women, there are just too many unknowns in the scenario. You need me there to watch your back." Eliot's tone softened. "I want him back too. I know there's this voice in your head just screaming at you to find him, and to hell with what it takes. But what good will it do to get him back if we lose you in the process? We both know he'd destroy himself if you died for him."

Sophie brushed both of the shirts away angrily, then turned and dropped onto the end of the bed, dragging a hand through her hair. It occurred to her that it would need to be dyed again soon. The day she found the first faint grey streaks she'd called Tara, left a note for the team, and then flown to a remote island in South America. She'd spent a week there, resolutely ignoring the world. Tara had provided her a willing distraction, didn't ask why she'd had to run away. When she finally told her on the sixth day there, her friend had burst out laughing, then apologised profusely when she realised how seriously Sophie was taking the whole deal.

The problem, of course, was that Sophie had never expected to get old. She'd never expected to live long enough to even worry about it; the life she led was dangerous, and she'd figured that she would die long before it ever became an issue. Still, it terrified her.

She'd gotten over it for the most part, but every now and then she'd see a tinge of grey or find a new line in her face, (courtesy of Nate, mostly) and the fear would hit her again.

After a few minutes of silence, Eliot came over and sat down beside her, nudging her shoulder gently. "You still here?" he asked softly.

Sophie shrugged, her eyes not moving, not seeing what was in front of her. "I'll pay the price. Whatever I have to, to get him out. I… I don't want to die, Eliot. I love this crazy life that I have with you and Nate and Parker and Hardison. This is the only family I've ever had. But I'd give it all away to keep him safe. It's not like my soul is in jeopardy anyway, now. It's already too damaged to turn back."

Eliot frowned. "Thought you didn't believe in God?"

Sophie tilted her head slightly. "I don't. But look around at the world, at everything, and tell me what you see."

Eliot grimaced. "You don't wanna see the world through my eyes Soph." She just waited, those dark eyes now focused solely on his. With another twist of his mouth, he finally replied "I see blood. I see danger and suffering."

She nodded. "And then when you're with us? When we're all safe?"

He furrowed his brow. "Well, then I see good, I guess. I mean, in a 'Parker get out of my kitchen before I skewer you' kind of way."

Sophie moved her eyes away. "Balance. All of life is about a search for balance. When you find it, find the right mix of things that you need, it feels good. There's even a word for it: homeostasis. It doesn't just apply to people though. It applies to everything, all of nature. Remember that movie Hardison brought home that you didn't want to watch, citing 'too cartoony', and then we were all mesmerised? God, what was that called?" She shook her head, trying to concentrate.

"Wind… Valley of the wind, something like that," Eliot mused.

Sophie nodded. "Remember how all the people thought that the toxic jungle was trying to kill them, but it was really filtering out the poisons left after a nuclear war? How it was the world actually working at fixing itself? Well the entire world, universe, whatever, it's all like that. It constantly recycles things, uses them as building blocks for the future. And I figure it's the same thing with souls, or personalities. When we die, when we're finished with them, they get taken in, repaired, and sent back. But every so often there are things that just aren't worth recycling, things it would take too much work to repair."

"And you think you're one of those?" asked Eliot softly.

She stared at the floor. "Those weren't the first people I've killed. Or tortured." She didn't stumble at all at that admission, said it softly and calmly. "I'm not a good person, Eliot. I know you all think I'm safe, stable, gentle. I'm not. Just like you aren't a declawed house cat, no matter how careful you are with all of us. You're a lion."

"Well I have the hair for it," he joked, hoping for a smile. She shrugged again and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Please don't do this without me?" he begged softly. "Let me in."

Sophie had done many difficult things in her life, but the tiny nod she gave then was by far the hardest of them all. Trusting Nate's life to someone other than herself.

Eliot felt her assent and let out a sigh of relief, a "Thank holy fuck" coming out of his mouth before he could stop it. He did get a slight laugh at that, and then Sophie pulled him down beside her.

Later, as he lay there with her in his arms, he said softly, "You're wrong. I've seen your soul. I can say, with certainty, that it's in good condition. Bit beat up, sure, but nowhere near as bad as you think. And when we get Nate out, I'm gonna show you until you see it too."

"When," she repeated softly. "Not if." It wasn't a question.

He shook his head. "No if's." He drifted to sleep to the sound of her breathing.

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><p>Nathan Ford tensed instinctively at the sound of the door opening. They hadn't taken off the blindfold since he was brought here; his hearing seemed twice as acute now. He'd filed away all the sounds since he got here. One of the guards had a limp, right foot, Nate could hear the uneven gait. Another had a lung condition, asthma or the equivalent, always breathed through his mouth and often wheezed or coughed. Part of his brain mocked him about logging such useless details, but he ignored it. It was better than concentrating on what they were doing to him.<p>

"Well Mr. Ford, shall we continue our conversation then?" The sound of a wheelchair gliding across the floor was loud in the silence.

Nate was shaking before they ever touched him.

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><p>Hardison opened his eyes to a strange sensation. He'd fallen asleep in the chair again, which he could tell by the momentous kink in his neck. As he lifted his head his neck muscles protested strongly. He ignored them.<p>

Parker was in his lap. Her IV tube was stretched across the bed, wrapped around God knew what, her hand and most of the rest of her hidden inside the flannel blanket she was wrapped up in. Only her blonde hair stuck out of the top of the blanket.

Hardison felt his heart skip. Slowly, he brought a hand up to her shoulder. "Parker?" he asked softly. She responded by snuggling closer. He broke into a grin. "Babe? You there?"

After a couple of seconds she raised her head, looked at him, then nodded. "I might have to go away again though," she said. "If it… gets too bad. But I'll come back." Her blue eyes were earnest, begging him to believe her.

"S'Okay, mama, I'll be waiting. I'll always wait, long as you want," he promised. "I… I love you," he said in a rush. His heart decided to act like he was running a marathon.

Parker smiled slightly. "Sophie owes Eliot ten dollars. She said it would take you longer. I love you too Alec, even if you do make stupid robots with my name." She was giving him a weird look. "Why are you grinning like that? You look like that pumpkin we carved last Halloween."

Hardison firmly reminded himself that tears of joy were not manly, even if they were appropriate. "I can't stop," he replied.

Parker put her head back down on his shoulder. After about fifteen seconds of silence she asked quietly "Nate?"

Hardison's smile flickered and died.


End file.
